


Their First Kiss

by Kali588



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Mission Fic, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, angry soviet cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kali588/pseuds/Kali588
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: An Awkward Kiss</p><p>Clint and Natasha's first mission as a married couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiss_me_cassie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiss_me_cassie/gifts).



> Thank you, Cassie, for being so patient with this! Hopefully it's worth the wait. If you guys want to submit your own prompt, send it on Tumblr at itsnotokbutwereallright

He supposed it was inevitable. She was skilled at seduction; of dressing so men never looked her in the eye while she plucked the secrets from their brains, caught in the web she so carefully spun. They were dead before they knew what had happened.

They had worked fairly well together, Hawkeye and Black Widow (once some differences were worked out on the sparring mats) as Strike Team: Delta. They had matched perfectly - he covered the distance work while she got up close and personal. But Fury had decided this next mission needed his two top agents to work in a whole new fashion.

“You seriously want us to pretend we're married? How is that even relevant?”

“Because, Barton,” Hill said, less than patiently, “for the fourth time. This is a ring that targets affluent _couples_ staying at the resort for the first time. Singles are always left alone. Those in the lower cost rooms have reported no issues.”

“It just doesn't make any _sense_ ,” he argued, for the fourth time. “Why would you target couples over singles? It's more work.”

His partner, who had been silent until now, responded, “Bigger haul. Emotional blackmail - give us what you want or the partner gets it. Nice resort like this, you need a team, means the bigger the payout, the less painful to split.”

He glared at her but didn't respond. Natasha caught Maria rolling her eyes up to the ceiling and mouthing thank you, but decided not to comment. “So, married couple, rich, visiting the resort for the first time.” She flipped through the dossier. “Flash some jewelry at check in, large tips to various waitstaff, easy enough.”

Clint suddenly became all business. “Any other common links?”

Maria answered, “None that we've been able to find.”

He grunted and flipped through his dossier, then slammed it shut. “Departure?”

Maria smirked and said, “0400.” He grit his teeth and managed to restrain himself, nodding tersely. “Dismissed.” They both got up and left the room, Clint holding the door for Natasha.

As she trotted ahead, he took a deep breath. Then another. And put the careless smile on his face that he knew she wanted to wipe off before jogging to catch up. “So, Natasha, how confident do you feel in our covers? Because I really think we need to practice.” When she looked at him disdainfully, he hastily added, “Not like _that_! Just like how did we meet? What's your favorite color? Do we have pet names for each other? Do I bring you flowers? Do you bring me flowers? How long have we been together?”

She looked like she was on the verge of hitting him, so he tried to casually fall back out of immediate reach. The glance he received told him it hadn't gone unnoticed. “You don't think that you not assassinating me is a good...meet cute?”

She smirked when he stopped in his tracks, giving her the time to input her code on the door to her quarters. The beep of confirmation shook him out of it. “Very funny, Nat!” He called after her as she hurriedly shut the door behind her. He poked his tongue out at her door and stomped away, muttering to himself.

The next morning, at the godforsaken appointed time, he arrived at the hangar with the largest cup of coffee he'd been able to find, feet shoved in a pair of beat up Chuck Taylor’s, dressed in black SHIELD sweatpants and gray hoodie, with the hood up. He dipped his head in acknowledgement to Coulson and Natasha, then boarded the plane. Clint was well known for not being a morning person. She'd frowned about it at first, but when he was on mission he was _on_ _mission_. If it took him a couple hours in transit to get there, that was part of partner work (Coulson had informed her of this when she had commented).

They boarded shortly after, ignoring Clint snoring away in one of the chairs. Once they were in the air, Natasha took the opportunity to review her dossier for a final time. She went ahead and changed into her resort wear that the SHIELD support staff had provided. They had included her favorite - a diamond bracelet that concealed a garrotte wire. She double checked her other weapons. Judging that was time enough, and ignoring Coulson’s critical eye, she dropped in the chair across from Clint.

He was awake instantly, she knew, but kept his eyes closed. She took the opportunity to kick him slightly in the leg. He grunted at her, which earned him a second kick, slightly harder than the first. “What?”

“My favorite color is blue. You bring me flowers, but I bring you breakfast in bed on Sundays. If you call me any pet names, I am not responsible for my actions. We've been together five years, married three. We met through mutual friends at a party on New Year’s Eve, kissed at midnight, and haven't looked back. Any other questions?”

He blinked owlishly at her for a moment, then pulled his hoodie off his head. “When do we practice the kissing? And the touching?”

She was very, _very_ still. “Would you care to repeat that, Agent Barton?”

He sighed, sat up straight, then scrubbed his hands over his face. “We've been together five years. We're a childless couple on a romantic vacation. We're going to have to hold hands. Do the whole casual touching thing. Kissing - not like making out, but just casual, random kisses. Would you like to practice these so it's not insanely, incredibly _awkward_ , like this conversation?”

She eyed him before replying. He didn't seem to have any ulterior motives. He wasn't smiling that stupid smile. Still. “I think we'll be fine,” she responded drily.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just don't break my arm the first time I go to touch you.”

She scoffed and left him alone. That didn't even merit a response.

Clint went back to sleep as Natasha returned to her seat. When they were about 30 minutes out, Clint snapped himself awake and changed. He didn't bother going through the dossier file again. He did chug the rest of his coffee, ignoring the disgusted look he received from his partner. Clint dropped into the seat next to Coulson. “Last piece, boss?”

Coulson reached into his jacket and pulled out a ring box, handing it to Clint. “Remember, I'll be nearby but not too close. Nightly check ins. We anticipate you being hit by night three. Please do not disable the listening devices in the rooms.”

Clint had flipped open the ring box and was staring in shock at the wedding set. “I hope this is zirconia.”

“It is. Tracking devices in the rings as a backup.”

Clint pulled out his ring and put it on. Natasha held out her left hand for the box, and her own ring. Quick as lightning, Clint had grabbed her hand. In shock, she didn't immediately retaliate. He slid the ring on, thumb lightly brushing her hand, before withdrawing. “Guess we're official now, Mrs. James.”

Still stunned, and with her left hand tingling from his touch, she didn't respond with anything more than a nod. She stared at the ring, thinking how odd it felt to have him fit it into place, and yet...right? She shook it off as they began their final descent, slipping instead into her cover.

By the time they had disembarked and were in their private, chauffeured vehicle, she was gazing adoringly at her husband, arms entwined. He had made sure to tilt his head to look down at her, equally lovestruck. Clint had also graciously given her the window seat, sitting in the middle so as to be closer to her. He leaned in to whisper close to her ear, “Airport is too small for them to fly in as frequently as the marks are getting hit, without being noticed.”

She giggled for the driver's benefit, and said, “Yes, Teddy, I know! But you have to wait until we get there!”

He leaned back against the seat, moving his arm to lay behind her, resting on the top of the seat. She continued to look eagerly out the window, and chattered about all of the fabulous amenities she couldn't wait to try at the resort.

When they arrived, Clint made sure to tip generously. Maybe a little more generously than Maria would have liked, he smirked to himself, but they were on a timetable. The driver thanked him profusely as he retrieved the designer suitcases from the trunk. “ _De nada,_ ” Clint told him, several times. The driver made a point of bringing a cart to Clint and Natasha to use for their bags, instead of rolling them to the main desk. Clint thought it could be a signal of some kind, until they walked in and Natasha flicked a glance at the two families checking in, also with carts. She'd apparently had the same thought.

While they waited their turn, Natasha handed him a brochure, and began talking to him, pointing out the more fun excursions. There were a couple that were on the pricy side, but not the priciest. At their turn to check in, she let him do the talking, but making sure to flash the bracelet a few times. The bellboy that helped them to their room and put their bags in the bedroom was also generously tipped. After he'd left, mouth slightly agape, Clint turned to Natasha. “So, what should we do first, darling?” He winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

 _Room sweep_ she mouthed at him. He nodded, and she said, “I'll work on unpacking, if you want to check in with your mother and let her know we arrived.” Clint had a questioning look on his face, and then when he realized she meant Coulson, grinned widely.

“Oh, absolutely!” Natasha moved to the bedroom, while Clint stayed in the living room and cheerfully dialed Coulson. “Hey, Mom!”

Coulson sighed heavily. “Hysterical. Absolutely hysterical. What’s Romanoff doing?”

“Unpacking.”

“I told you to leave the bugs alone!”

“Oh yes, lots of room. It’s very private. Very romantic. I’m sure we’ll have a great time.”

“Can she at least leave a couple? For God’s sake, Barton, we need to know in case it goes down when you aren’t in the room.”

“Sure thing.”

“Can you tell her now, _before_ she gets to them all?”

“Yup, gotta go, Mom, love you too.” Clint hit the button to hang up and shoved the phone in his pocket. “Sweetheart! Let’s get down to the pool!”

Natasha poked her head through the bedroom door and then gave him a nasty glare and the finger while she chirped, “Almost finished, Teddy. Just putting the last of our things in the bathroom, but your suit is on the bed.”

He moved into the bedroom while Natasha went to the adjoining bathroom. There were only three bugs on the bed, and they all appeared to be SHIELD grade. He disabled them, a skill he had developed very early in his time with the agency. Natasha brought one more out from the bathroom, already dismantled. He went back to the bedroom door and shut it so their voices wouldn’t carry quite as easily. “Promised Coulson we’d leave him a few, figure we can leave the ones in the living area alone.”

He could see the displeasure in her eyes, but she kept her thoughts to herself and nodded. “I’m going to put my suit on so we can make an appearance downstairs. Did you sweep the main area to make sure there are only SHIELD bugs?”

“I’ll do it while you get changed.” They nodded at each other, and Clint left, shutting the door behind him. He checked the living area quickly, though he heard the bedroom door open before he had decided if he was going to open the lamp or not. He turned around to signal Natasha at the lamp, but his brain stopped functioning when he saw her standing there in her black bikini. He’d only ever seen her in SHIELD issue, even when he’d been made her permanent sparring partner after she was deemed too advanced for the new agent class. Even the undercover work she’d been doing with him keeping an eye hadn’t involved so much _skin_. Glorious, glorious skin.

She raised a delicate eyebrow at him and refrained from snapping her fingers to wake him up from where she already knew his brain had gone. She’d seen that look before, on plenty of men. She swayed toward him, which, interestingly, made his eyes go back into focus. “Sorry. Sorry.” He held his hands up in surrender. He gestured to the lamp, then tapped his ear, shrugged his shoulder. She flicked her fingers at him, then towards the door to the bedroom. He moved toward the bedroom, skirting a wide berth around rather than the brush up against her as she was expecting. He went in for a minute without shutting the door, then came back out and tossed a black hand roll at her. He went back and shut the door this time, while she took out the mini screwdriver to work on the lamp. He hadn’t come back out by the time she was done and empty handed. She shrugged it off and put the lamp back together.

When she was about finished, the door opened and Clint stepped out, sunscreen in hand. “Don’t forget this for your pool bag.”

“Thanks. We’re clean, other than what we left for Mama Bear.” He nodded, as she put in the last of the screws and set the lamp back in the precise spot it had been placed originally. When Natasha moved to go back in the bedroom, Clint walked hastily to where he had left his shoes and shoved them on his feet. She emerged a minute later, bag in hand and hat and sunglasses in place. She held out Clint’s own sunglasses, slightly miffed when he snatched them out of her hand and a muttered thanks as he tossed the sunscreen at her.

They left the room and headed for the elevator, Clint staying a pace or two ahead of her. “You always walk so fast, Teddy!”

He stopped and took a deep breath, then shortened his stride. They patiently waited for the elevator, naturally keeping their faces tilted away from the camera once they stepped inside. Natasha pushed the button for the ground level, where the pool was located. Clint was leaning against the back wall, arms crossed over his chest. She moved to stand next to him, noticing he caught himself from flinching. She murmured to him, “You’re going to blow this op.”

He looked at her, offended. “I am not,” he hissed.

“Then for God’s sake, put your arm around me. What happened to your casual touching thing?”

“That was before you did _the walk_.” He did, however, put his arm loosely around her shoulders.

“What in the hell is _the walk_?”

“It’s the walk you do when you’re about to hit your target.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, letting a family on. They both immediately laughed, and Clint pulled Natasha tighter. She did elbow him in the ribs. He pinched her arm in retaliation. They arrived at the level they needed. Natasha and Clint kept their smiles on, his arm moving down around her waist. After they moved out of earshot, she whispered at him, “I don't have a walk!”

“Trust me, as the observer, you have a walk. And it was a little scary to be on the receiving end.”

“Trust me, if I'm about to kill you, you'll never see it coming.”

He hummed a noncommittal noise, and by then they were at the pool. The cabana boy found them two chairs and made sure they had towels. He was handed a few dollars as well. She handed Clint the sunscreen. “Can you get my back, darling?”

“Of course.”

As Clint gingerly applied the sunscreen, and, she hoped, evenly, she murmured, “You're going to give Maria and Coulson heart attacks when they see your expense reports.”

“Probably. But it'll be worth it if we catch them.”

“Oh, we will.” She spoke at a normal volume. “Thanks, Teddy. Turn around, I'll get yours.”

She briskly applied the cream, trying not to think about how muscular his back was. All that practice with his bow had his upper body nearly impeccable. After she finished, he stood up quickly and announced he was going for a swim. She slid off her jewelry and applied her own, scanning the pool behind her sunglasses. A waiter came by to get her drink order. Another cabana boy came to see if she wanted an umbrella. A different waiter came to see if she wanted anything to eat.

 _Well_ , she thought wryly, _word is getting around about the good tippers._ She was diligent in tipping those she did accept offers from. Clint eventually left the pool, after doing more laps than she'd cared to count. He held out a hand to her. “Shall we take a walk on the beach before dinner?”

She smiled widely at him, and accepted his hand as she stood up. She left her jewelry on the table. It wasn't the thieves style, but it's hard to resist an easy score. They walked along the water, holding hands the whole way. They weren't really alone enough to compare notes on their surveillance, so they made up their lives back home and discussed various imagined details. They walked back to the pool area and continued past their original seats. Natasha noted the jewelry was gone, and squeezed Clint's hand twice. He squeezed once to acknowledge. As they neared the door to the interior, Natasha heard, “Mr. and Mrs. James! Please wait!”

She turned, weight carefully balanced as she slipped her hand from Clint's. She'd been ambushed before under an alias, and they would both need their hands free if that was the case now. She was careful to keep an easy smile on her face as one of the waiters from earlier practically ran up to them. “Yes?” She inquired, polite and with a smile on her face.

“I'm so sorry!” He panted. “You left your jewelry behind earlier, and we didn't know if you were coming back right away, so I moved it. I don't want you to think I was trying anything!”

Clint made a ‘calm down’ motion at the man. “We appreciate you keeping it safe. Katherine is forgetful, and you've saved me quite a bit of money from having to replace yet more jewelry.” He took the jewelry that the man held and looked sternly at Natasha. She tried to look slightly embarrassed. “Please, a small appreciation,” Clint said as he slipped him a large bill. The waiter smiled widely and shook Clint’s hand.

“Thank you, Mr. James!” and then he strutted back towards his station close to the bar. Clint and Natasha continued inside.

“Should have known it wouldn't be that easy,” Clint sighed.

Natasha shrugged as they entered the elevator. “Establishes the cover. Rich woman, cares enough about jewelry to make her husband keep buying it when she's careless with it, rich husband who is able to do so multiple times. Dinner tonight?”

“Absolutely. We've got a few hours.”

She kept her face expressionless as she continued to face forward. “Someone mentioned we're a young married couple on a romantic vacation?”

Clint went very, very still. “Okay?”

“So we'll hide out in the room for that time and put a do not disturb sign on the door. I,personally, plan on reviewing the security specs again, and then taking a bath in that obscene tub. Any issues?”

“Nope,” he gulped.

Now she did smile, just barely. “Great.”

As the elevator reached their floor, they fell back into character, with lots of giggling on Natasha’s end, and Clint seemingly tugging her along. They put up the sign and locked the door, and Natasha was back to all business. They reviewed the information on the hotel restaurant, noting any egress points, and Clint calculating the best view points from the surrounding areas that their criminals could be using to watch diners. After that exercise, Natasha left to enjoy the tub, and Clint crashed on the bed. When the door from the bathroom to the bedroom opened thirty minutes later, Clint jerked up in bed and calmly pointed a gun before he’d fully registered the source. Natasha politely waited for him to lower the weapon. “You’ll have to train yourself out of that if you want to be successful undercover.”

He grit his teeth. “I don’t plan on going undercover. I see better from a distance.”

She shrugged carelessly. “For this assignment, at least, try not to shoot me.” Natasha gathered some clothing and went back into the bathroom to change, while Clint grumbled to himself and picked out his own dinner outfit. They switched places, with Natasha now working on concealing various weaponry and picking out new jewelry. Clint came back out without his tie or jacket, finding his own holster and strapping it on. He muttered curses as he attempted to tie the tie on, without success. After two attempts, Natasha rolled her eyes and almost stomped her way over to him. “Give me the tie.”

He started his third attempt. “I can do it.”

She all but smacked his hands away. “It’ll be faster if you just let me do it.” Impatience in every gesture, she tugged the tie to form a neat Windsor. She looked up at him, her features indicating satisfaction with her work, and smugness at having bested him - again.

“Thanks, Nat.” Clint smiled down at her, blue eyes a little softer around the corners than she was used to.

She felt a lump in her throat. She couldn’t fully remember the last person that had cared enough to give her a nickname, but the lack of memory indicated it hadn’t ended well for either of them. “My name is Natasha.” She put on her Black Widow mask and stepped away from him, heading towards the living area. Clint scratched the back of his head and followed her, shrugging the jacket on along the way. The awkward silence stayed with them while they secured the room, walked to the elevator, and until they were almost at the floor where the restaurant was located. Only when they were that close did she move toward him and loop her arm through his.

When the elevator doors opened, they were both laughing and smiling like nothing had happened. She turned her body in towards his and stayed that way as he spoke to the hostess. They were escorted to their seats, Hawkeye living up to his name and noting the egress points they had discussed on their map earlier. When they arrived at the table, he absent mindedly pulled out the chair for her, not noticing the glare Natasha shot at him. She wanted to tell him to focus; instead, she settled for kicking his shin once they were both seated. That earned her a dirty look in response.

Dinner was stilted - she could tell their game was off, but Natasha didn’t know how to fix it. She'd never played the husband and wife game with another agent before - she'd always been a solo operative. The waiter didn’t seem to notice - they were still laughing and faking conversation, but it wasn’t the easiness that a couple of their tenure should have had. They declined dessert and speedily paid the bill. They should have lingered, had more wine, had dessert - Natasha knew all of this, but she couldn’t figure out how to articulate it to her partner. Truthfully, she was looking forward to getting back to the room, debriefing Coulson, and getting some sleep. Maybe after some rest, they’d be ready to get back in sync tomorrow.

They barely touched on the way back up to their room. Clint did slide on the Do Not Disturb sign before they entered. He tugged the tie off and threw it in the general direction of the couch while Natasha slipped out of her heels. Clint used the sat phone to dial in for their check in. After advising Mom that the resort was just as beautiful in pictures, and that they were going to try scuba diving tomorrow so needed an early lights out, they both headed to the bedroom. They took their turns in the bathroom, Clint going second.

When he came back out, Natasha was already in the bed and laying on her back, eyes closed. He silently walked around to grab his pillow so he could take the couch. She said, without opening her eyes, “Married couples sleep in the same bed.”

“Maybe you snore.”

“If someone were to come in the room in the middle of the night, it would be strange for you to be sleeping on the couch.”

“I put the Do Not Disturb sign up.”

She, almost imperceptibly, sighed. “I'm sure our targets or other potential assassins are going to honor the sign. I know I always do.”

He rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_. But if I keep you awake, I tried to be reasonable.” He didn't really want to talk about the nightmares that all too frequently plagued him.

“I'm sure I'll manage.” She didn't want to mention the nightmares that only come from a ledger as red as hers.

After the initial fight over the covers - which he _let_ her win - they both dropped off quickly, a skill honed like any other in their line of work. And both slept dreamless.

The next morning, he woke first and managed not to draw any weapons on her. However, when he moved to get out of bed, he saw her awaken instantly and move towards what he was sure was a knife under her pillow. She managed to check herself. As he headed toward the bathroom, he said over his shoulder, “You’ll have to train yourself out of that if you want to be successful undercover.” She responded by calling him a rude name in her native language.

They each got ready and went down to the breakfast restaurant in the hotel. Clint guzzled coffee and ate some bacon and a donut, while Natasha ate some fresh fruit and yogurt. She inched her hand towards a bacon strip at one point, and was rewarded with Clint’s look of death. Which she immediately pointed out to him, after his comment about her walk yesterday. They sniped at each other for a minute, though ended up laughing - real laughter - by the time the waiter came to clear their plates. They linked hands to walk to the shuttle taking them to the scuba site, and cuddled and talked about their fateful meeting and subsequent happiness with the other passengers.

Clint and Natasha pretended to pay attention to the scuba instructor as he talked over the basic safety requirements - not shockingly, they wouldn’t be going very deep, which was assumedly for liability purposes. When the group was asked if anyone had practiced scuba before, he followed Natasha’s cue and didn’t raise his hand. No reason to stand out in the crowd. They were guided to the equipment and fitted. It wasn’t until they were putting everything on that Natasha was reminded to remove her jewelry. She tittered and responded, “You would think I’d remember! I lost a bracelet last year when we went snorkeling in Fiji. Thank you so much!” Natasha put her items in a locker and handed the key to Clint to hold.

Once they were in the water, Clint had to concentrate on not going too deep. It had been part of his training at the SHIELD academy, and he was used to more freedom in diving. Natasha sent him some hand signals while they were underwater, to try and check out some of the caves. Once they were a little bit further away from the group, they felt more free in their exploration and usage of the equipment. After searching several, they resurfaced. “It’s not like hunting for treasure,” he whispered at her, mindful of how sound could carry over open water.

“I’m not saying it is. It was a long shot, but they have to have somewhere to hide all their crap without being noticed, especially if it’s an inside job.”

“I know, but I don’t think they’d drive it all the way out here.”

“Easily accessible by boat, any time of the day or night. Caves are fairly large, so you could fit in more than one or two of the crew.”

“Safe house is far more likely.”

“Let’s just search the last one. It’s a little bit closer to the highway - could be a meeting point and then they trade it off and someone else takes it out to the real stash.”

He grumbled but fit his respirator back in place. Natasha did the same, and they swam out. They went lower than the recommended depth, trying to keep from being spotted by the rest of the party in the blue water. They were almost there when someone swam in front of them and started pointing up. With no choice, they obliged. One of the instructors was already up top and had spit out his mouthpiece. “You guys are way too far out for beginners. Let’s turn it back around.” Thankfully, since they had not followed suit in removing their equipment, they ducked back down in the water and headed back to the main group.

They spent the rest of their time looking at fish, with the only hand gestures being pointing. Clint’s shoulder blades were starting to get twitchy, which he took as a good sign. That normally meant they were being watched. The whole group was wound up on the way back, talking excitedly about everything they had seen. Clint tipped the guides, even though they weren't specifically tied to the resort. Everyone retrieved their various belongings and hopped back in the shuttle, the driver of whom was also generously tipped.

They were back at the resort and headed straight for the pool when the twitchy feeling came back. Natasha rolled her shoulders a few times while they followed one of the cabana boys to a set of lounge chairs. She handed him the sunscreen. “Time to reapply. Get my back?”

When he leaned in, he murmured to her, “I think we're being watched.”

She whispered back, “I'm feeling that way also.” At a normal volume, she said, “Thanks, dear. I'll do yours.” They switched positions and Natasha leaned up to whisper in his ear, “I think it'll be tonight.”

Now that they were close to getting their goal accomplished, Clint felt on much sturdier ground. He barely noticed the way her hands were massaging the lotion. When she was finished, he slipped into the pool to do some laps, while she sunbathed and watched everything behind her sunglasses. They spent the afternoon by the pool and at the beach. They meandered their way to their room, both checking their surroundings subtly. Neither noticed anyone watching them or following them.

The Do Not Disturb sign was placed and they spent an hour before dinner coming up with various scenarios. The previous victims were targeted at night - they woke up and their belongings were gone. A few had utilized the safe, and had been awoken by men in masks to force them to open it for them. A few bruises and cut lips, but no major injuries. The assailants had guns - which was the most reliable description they were going to get with civilians. Nothing Strike Team: Delta couldn't handle. They elected to stash all of the jewelry in the safe, to give them an opportunity to take the group out when they were targeted.

They were careful not to mention their suspicions about the time in their room. While they both trusted their instincts, they didn't feel the need to voice them where Coulson could overhear. Natasha, even after all these months, preferred not working under anyone. Clint was used to being the only backup she had. They may not have worked together quite like this before, but they were still partners.

They were relaxed after they put their information away, encrypting the tablet but not bothering to hide it. They knew what to do. Each took their turn in the bathroom, Clint automatically handing her the tie with a sheepish look on his face. Natasha smiled at him, and just like that, they were back in sync.

They went for dinner at one of the other restaurants at the resort, Clint muttering something about SHIELD getting their money's worth as he ordered a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine. They finished the bottle, and Natasha had another glass with dessert, while Clint switched to coffee. As they paid the bill, she giggled and then acted a little unsteady on her feet. A woman her size should be rather affected from the amount she had drunk, and Natasha was plenty skilled at playing on that assumption on her assignments. She continued the show on their way to the room, Clint “helping” her stand steady in the elevator. She braced herself against the wall of the hallway as he fumbled with the room key. They wound arms around the other's waists for support, then pushed through the doorway. Clint released her to start taking off the tie, while she turned to secure the door. She had just clicked the lock into place when everything went black.

When Natasha came to, her wrists were zip tied to the arms of a chair, her ankles were zip tied to separate chair legs, and she had a headache. She kept her eyes closed while she evaluated - didn't feel like a concussion, though her arms and shoulders were already sore, thanks to how tight they had bound her. She was sitting in the chair, at least. Natasha made a point of groaning as her eyes fluttered open. Clint was across the room, tied in a similar fashion. He appeared to still be out. She could see in her peripheral a man on the couch behind her, but she was careful to pretend she hadn't seen him.

“Oh my God, Teddy!” She made the words high pitched and with an edge of hysteria. “Teddy, please wake up!”

The muzzle of couch guy's gun touched her between the shoulder blades. “That's enough of that.”

She whimpered but clamped her mouth shut. Two more came out of the bedroom, also armed and wearing masks. One went over to Clint and started smacking him in the face to wake him up. She could tell when he actually did, and took that moment of evaluation that she had taken, before he also groaned and opened his eyes. Natasha cued the tears, though was careful not to yell. “What the hell?! Who are you people?”

The third man spoke. “Now, now, Mr. James, don't you worry about that. Though I don't think that's your real name.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

The goon that had woken him up backhanded him across the mouth, splitting his lip. Natasha gasped at that, and her goon shoved the gun in a little harder.

“I don't think you are who you say you are. We watch, you see. Why did your room have a special cleaning staff before you arrived?”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” He was rewarded with a punch to the gut.

Natasha shrieked, “Please! Stop! We just came for vacation. We'll give you whatever you want!”

The leader chuckled as her guy pulled her hair, hard. “I'm sure you did. And don't worry, we'll take whatever we find. But the problem is, I just don't believe you.” He crossed to her and grabbed her chin in his hands. “You see, darling, you and your husband over there? We've seen you together. Very business like. Hands never stray, lips never touch. It's a good show, but honestly, I'm not buying.” She made her eyes even bigger as she inwardly cursed herself - and Barton - for letting Clint be right.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” she replied haughtily.

He laughed uproariously.”There's the rich white woman. Prudish, hey? Tell you what, you come give your ‘husband’ here a kiss - a good one - then you unlock the safe and we'll be on our way.”

She looked disgusted, but the man guarding Clint aimed a gun at him, while her guard pushed his between her shoulder blades again. “O...okay,” she stuttered. “Teddy knows the safe combination, though.” She could see the gleam of annoyance in Clint’s eyes, but fact was, she was the more likely of the two to get out of the ties faster on her own.

“First, we're going to take a look at your little iPad here. See if you are who you really say you are.” She held her breath. With the guard behind her, she hadn't been able to even start her attempt to get out of the ties. Natasha really hoped the SHIELD encryption wouldn't fail. The man swiped around for a bit, opening apps and closing them. He looked through pictures. She thanked whomever was listening for Photoshop. He grunted after a few tense minutes and then stuck the tablet in a bag on the table. Next to it was a frequency jammer, which explained why no Coulson and Co. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. James, we do apologize for the rough treatment. Mr. James, you're going to give us everything in the safe, and then you'll give us thirty minutes before you contact anyone. And we'll know if we don't get the full thirty.” He gestured to Clint’s guard, who cut him out of the chair. Her guard didn't move from his spot.

Clint and the leader moved to the bedroom. Clint's guard holstered his weapon, grabbed the bag from the table, and followed them. After a few minutes, they returned, and the leader signaled to Natasha’s guard to let her go. He did so, then went to the table to turn off the jammer and hook it to his belt. Clint had rushed over to her, still playing his role. The leader chuckled. “How about that kiss?”

Clint hesitated, then kissed the top of her head. “Ah ah ah,” he chastised. “Your wife promised.” Natasha wanted to grind her teeth but instead pulled Clint down for a kiss.

It was terrible and awkward. They both turned their heads the same way, and Clint had to move fast. They met with too much force, and Natasha winced as their teeth crashed together, barely cushioned by their closed mouths. Good Lord, he really had been right. They should have practiced. He had decided the best place for his hands were her shoulders. She had left hers by her side. She had closed her eyes, but his had been wide open.

She heard the sound of three guns being unholstered. “Told you so,” Clint took the time to snark at her, and then they _moved_. She ran and leapt at the one on the left, grabbing him by the neck, while her legs kicked out and caught the other goon in the stomach. Clint tackled the leader, trading punches in a flurry of fists. Natasha had used her momentum to swing on to the first guy's back, and had him in a choke hold. He ran backwards and crashed her into a wall, but the Black Widow was made of sterner stuff, and didn’t release her hold. He tried again, and Natasha could feel her ribs screaming. She loosened enough to make him think he could shake her off, and when he tried to do just that, used the additional momentum to swing her legs around his neck. She was careful to apply only enough pressure to make him pass out and not break his neck. The other goon had recovered from her kick and was aiming at her. She flipped backwards, using her calves to apply the last few seconds of pressure as she used her first target as a human shield. As he dropped, she simply kicked her legs over, and as soon as she was standing again, Natasha took a running leap on to the other man, climbing up his body and then punching down with as much force as she could muster. He, thankfully, dropped like a stone.

Natasha went to help Clint, whose opponent had gotten him with the knife that, as she watched, Clint broke the wrist of the hand holding. The guy was trying to push through the pain, so she dislocated his knee. That put him down, the pain causing him to blackout. Natasha and Clint stood, panting at one another. After a minute of silence, other than the sounds of their breath, there was a knock on the door. Natasha and Clint each grabbed a gun from their downed targets.

“Housekeeping?” The door opened and in strode Coulson. He whistled. “Going to need a lot more than some fresh towels.”

Natasha and Clint each gave him dirty looks, and he smiled blandly at them. A team of SHIELD agents came in and removed the thugs. Coulson escorted Clint and Natasha out. As they were leaving, Clint looked at her and smiled. “Next time we get married, we're practicing the kiss first."

  
Natasha quirked an eyebrow and then smiled a small smile. “Next time,” she agreed.


End file.
